


Letting Go

by allofthepixels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Babies, Brothers, M/M, Tickling, Ticklish Dean, emotionally stunted weenie dean too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:58:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthepixels/pseuds/allofthepixels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas stumbles on Dean tickling Sam and it peaks his interests. (Originally published on thebest-medicine.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Go

"Get off, you-hoo-hoo, jeheherk!" Sam clawed desperately at his older brother’s wrists, too weak to do much else as his head fell back again against the mattress. Even though Sam preferred a playful, idiotic Dean to a brooding, distant Dean, he was regretting the good natured teasing he’d sent his way. 

"Why would I give up on my favorite little tickle bitch?" Dean’s smile was uncontrollable as he rolled his fingers easily from one hyper ticklish location to the next. He had just managed to get Sam’s gargantuan left limb locked above his head to properly get at his underarm when he heard the all-too-familiar rustling of angel wings. 

"Dean? Is Sam hurt?" Cas had appeared, as always, just a bit too close, hovering over the brothers and inspecting the pink-faced younger one carefully. "What are you doing?" 

"Hey Cas," he didn’t look up from his ministrations, forcing out more and more laughter. "Just tickling him." 

 

"Is he alright?" Cas looked concerned as the younger man twitched, a stream of uncharacteristically vicious profanities coming out of his mouth.

"It’s all in good fun," Dean assured him, punctuating the statement with a pinch to his upper ribs that made the man underneath him roar with an additional burst of laughter. "Sammy here is just stupid ticklish.” 

"Ticklish. That’s a form of sensitivity to touch, correct?" 

The angel’s eyes moved with interest across the younger man’s features. He noticed the glimpse of mirth behind the pained expressions and even felt himself smiling at the rambunctious Winchesters. He’d heard of the sensitivity before in his travels, knew that Balthazar enjoyed a good “slap and tickle,” whatever that meant, and that humans often responded to the lightest of touches in bizarre, but uniquely beautiful ways. He found the innocence and laughter incredibly endearing. He couldn’t help but see something vulnerable and painfully sweet about the exchange. The worry usually etched into the two hunter’s faces was gone, replaced with a small kind of joy.

"Uh, yeah," Dean rolled his eyes at the clinical way the angel described something like tickling. Cas could certainly find a way to suck the fun out of anything. He dove back into his brothers sides when he figured he’d caught his breath enough to laugh out loud again.

"Please! Cas, get him off of me! I- haha- fuck! I’ll do anything," Sam writhed a bit more, wrenching his arm back down to his side to protect himself. "Haha-how would you like it if someone did this to you!" 

Cas’ eyes moved from Sam to Dean, cataloging the different sensitive zones of the body that he recognized from battle training. He couldn’t imagine a tickle assault to be much different. He watched Sam’s hand claw at Dean’s side, squeezing near his hip bone and watched the very obvious twitch that followed. 

"Pft. I’m not ticklish—" the older man sputtered a bit, regaining his balance before drilling his fingers back into the younger Winchester’s sides to effectively shut him up. His face lit up with every squeal-like laugh the younger man let out. 

"La-haha-Liar!" Sam looked to Cas, pink face and hazel eyes pleading. "Puh-uhuh-lee-heesee!"

The angel reached a hand out and mimicked Dean’s motions, pinching at the older Winchester’s rib tentatively. 

"Cahas!" he slapped at the angel’s hand, losing his balance enough for Sam to buck him off onto the floor. The taller man squirmed away, quickly moving to the other side of the room, clutching his sides as his laughter faded into heavy breathing.

"What was that, Dean?" Cas looked predatory, his eyes narrowing at the older hunter as he offered him a hand to stand up. Dean’s eyes widened.

"Sammy got me in the junk with his knee, s’all," Dean inched away, changing the topic. "I’m starving, can’t we get food or something. Burgers?"

"I’ll go," Sam shrugged on his jacket, swinging the keys on one freakishly long finger. "I bet some fresh air will do me some good after that shit, jerk." 

"Bitch," Dean muttered, watching him leave. "And no rabbit food!"

When he closed the door, Dean found himself acutely aware of the pair of blue eyes watching him. He felt like he was being sized up. 

"Dean," and suddenly he was all too close again. "Why would you lie about being ticklish?" 

Castiel was a bit confused. He understood that Sam found the tickling sensations to be intense, but not painful. But, clearly, Dean felt the need to very obviously lie about his sensitivity. He was able to have that sort of fun with Sam, but it was somehow less acceptable for Dean to succumb to sensitivity. A part of Cas ached to see Dean release the tension from his face again, if only for a short time.

"What are you talking abou-howhahaa!" his question was cut off by his own sharp howl as Cas hooked his fingers around his rib cage, knocking him back onto the bed. Dean immediately pulled up his knees to defend himself, rolling slightly to the side to defend as much of the sensitive area as possible. 

"You are just as ticklish as your brother. Perhaps it’s hereditary?" Cas spoke calmly, voice still dry despite the continuous fingers jabbing into ribs."Why is it such a problem for you?"

“‘Am not,” he snorted, wheezing through the urge to scream. “I don’t know! Get off.” 

Dean gave the Angel a strong push with both hands, but it was clear Castiel was too stubborn to quit until he got his answers. He hated being in this position. He had to give a warning look to too many girlfriends as he repeated that he “really meant it” when he told them not to go after his sides while cuddling. His stupidly sensitive body was just another thing that made him feel ridiculous, incapable of taking care of anyone else; it was another thing he couldn’t control.

"Dean, stop moving," Cas held up one hand and Dean’s arms were tugged up and held by some invisible force. He sputtered, taking a minute to struggle against it. 

"Cas, what the hell?" He tried to kick up but found his legs pinned too. "Not cool, man. Do we need to have the ‘people skills’ talk again?" 

"It’s all in good fun, Dean," the dry humor in Cas’ voice sent an additional shiver down Dean’s spine. His eyes looked a bit panicked when they met Cas’ gaze. The teasing tone was rare coming from the dark-haired man and Dean surprised himself when he thought it was incredibly attractive. He quickly averted his eyes, feeling blush flood his cheeks. He felt even more embarrassed when he realized he was actually blushing. 

"Let me up, Cas," Dean strained against the mojo. "Come on."

"No, Dean," Cas slid across his body, straddling over his midsection and peering down at him, hands poised over his ribs, painfully close to his newly exposed underarms. 

Dean closed his eyes and held his breath. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t—-fuck. He felt his eyes bug out a bit, but dug his teeth into his bottom lip to keep the sounds inside. Cas watched carefully as Dean’s exhales picked up pace the nearer he got to his underarms. 

"Why are you fighting this so much, Dean?" Cas walked down his ribs before shooting back up into the crevices of his underarms. "Is it so bad to be ticklish?"

He punctuated the final word with a drill of his thumbs into the center of his armpit. 

"Ca-hahahass!" He wailed, head flying back in agony. "Whhay-hye, wha-haha- What do you want?"

"I just want you to laugh, Dean," he slid his hands gently down his torso over his t-shirt, the soft touch sending a shiver through his bones. Dean’s breathing started to even out, only to pick up with his laughter as fingers dug back into his sides.

"Fu-huhuhuck!" Dean tried to shield his face in his shoulder, cheeks flaring from embarrassment paired with lack of oxygen. Cas took the opportunity to run his fingers around his jawline and sensitive neck, urging his face back to center to lock eyes with the man weakened by laughter.

”Dean,” he flinched underneath the angel’s hands, but the creases in his forehead, around his normally standard frown had lessened. “Just let go.”

"No-hohoho! Not there!" Despite the desperation in his voice, his smile was infectious. Castiel never wanted to forget that smile.

"Then where should I go, Dean?" Cas’ asked, his voice teasing, encouraging the smile to continue as his hands traveled down his torso, hovering over his torso. Dean froze. "Here?"

“Do-hohon’t.” Cas watched his face contort, a new and panic-filled expression overtaking his features as the rest of his limbs shook ferociously. The hips.

“Is this a particularly sensitive spot?” Cas’ words faded away into violent electricity as his thumbs gently rolled over the bony part of his hips.

“Fu-huhuck, please, please, please!” Dean wished he could sink into the mattress and disappear. Everything he felt was heightened, every sensation electric.

Cas squeezed and kneaded the area around his hip bones, scratching and moving along the flanks just about his jeans. Dean’s laughter jumped up another impossible octave, pleading sounds blurring into a more desperate wailing as his back arched up off the mattress. 

Sam walked in, fast food bag in hand. He spotted his brother writhing on the bed, tears streaming down his face; Cas on top of him squeezing at his torso with the hints of a smile on his normally stoic face.

“Having fun?” He asked.

With Castiel’s concentration broken, Dean’s arms fell to his sides.

“No,” he said at the same time Cas answered “Yes.


End file.
